


Twitterpated

by sainthound



Series: Camp Camp rarepair hell [5]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Clarice is harrison's mom, Dana is Nurf's mom, Dirty Talk, F/F, I don't know how truck engines work leave me alone, Joseph is Harrison's dad, Phone Sex, alternate title 'Clarice is the embodiment of a Lana Del Rey lyric', kind of a sequel to I.O.U
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainthound/pseuds/sainthound
Summary: She's playing with her now, like a cat with a mouse.





	Twitterpated

**Author's Note:**

> I have no knowledge of truck mechanics, mechanics don't interact uwu

Dana's phone buzzes in her back pocket.

She tries to ignore it. God, she tries. She's right in the middle of fixing this particularly impatient guy's truck, elbow-deep in the engine, and it's _important_ , she needs to get _paid_ so she can take Gaylord out for a nice meal somewhere when she gets him home after the summer. She wrenches at the stubborn old machine, pulls too hard and scrapes her slippery palms, cussing and hissing under her breath.

Her phone stops buzzing, the call going to voicemail, and she breathes out. She's only been out of prison for a week or so, and she's trying her darndest to get back on her feet. It's difficult. But she's coping.

She finally manages to push the stubborn piece of machinery back into place and pulls her arms out, wiping off dark smears of engine grease on her jeans. 

"Try the ignition now," she calls, flashing a thumbs up to the man in the cab of the truck. "If it still don't work, I've got one more thing up my sleeve. If it does - well, you can take it for a drive around the block."

Dana's phone buzzes again as the truck engine roars to life, and this time she can't just ignore it. It could be a call from Camp Campbell. Something urgent. If something had happened to Gaylord she wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

She flashes the guy a quick grin as a go-ahead and pulls her phone out to glance at the caller ID. It's an unknown number.

She picks up anyway.

"Yeah, hi?"

"Is this Dana? This is Dana, right? I got the right number, didn't I?" The voice on the other end is high and tight, shaking slightly, and Dana's entire demeanour softens even though Clarice isn't there to see it.

"Clare, babygirl! What's up? How'd you get my number?"

"Facebook," Clarice answers, sounding relieved. "I got it from Facebook."

"I didn't know you had a Facebook."

"Oh, I do. I just don't do anything with it."

"Apart from stalking me, you mean," Dana laughs. She's not annoyed - now that she thinks of it, she _did_ promise to get back in contact with Clarice once she got out. She just forgot. Her memory isn't the best.

Clarice splutters. "Not _stalking_! I just wanted to get in touch, that's all."

Dana grins wickedly, gives the guy another thumbs up. He begins to pull slowly out of the garage driveway, and she turns to lean against the wall, shoving her free hand into her jacket pocket. "Is that really all you wanted, though?"

Clarice hesitates just a moment too long. "...yes. Really. I just-- thought it was silly how we're back on speaking terms now with no way to talk to each other, and--"

"So you've forgotten all about that promise I made you, huh? Seems unlikely, but okay. You just wanted to say hi?" Dana waves slightly to the trucker as he drives away and her grin widens. She's playing with Clarice now, like a cat with a mouse.

"Promise? The, um, the promise to keep in touch?" Clarice is doing a very bad job of acting nonchalant, and Dana can picture her gripping the receiver - yes, the receiver, she never got around to buying a cellphone, how quaint - with both hands, her eyelashes fluttering far too much. She's got such a sweet, doe-eyed face. Not for the first time that week, Dana thinks about kissing her.

"Mm, yeah, to keep in touch. I feel like I promised you something else, though."

"Did you really? I can't remember. You know what I'm like, I'm so scatterbrained, probably just slipped my mind," Clarice gabbles in a nervous torrent. Dana grins so wide and so wickedly she could qualify as a veritable Cheshire Cat.

"Cut the act, Clare, you can't fool me. You remember. You've been thinking about it, right?" Her voice drops to a low purr. "You called to ask me to fuck you, isn't that it?"

Clarice practically whines into the receiver. "Oh, God, don't say it like that..."

"I'm right," Dana chuckles triumphantly. "I'm always right." She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been thinking about it too. About fucking Clarice, in her own bed. Sometimes at night her mind drifts back to college, when she had her fingers between Clarice's legs almost daily and in return had Clarice on her knees for her. To this day she can't think about it without having to stop and take a breather.

"You're right," Clarice admits. She takes a deep breath, throws caution and shame to the wind. "Would you? I mean-- ever since-- I keep _thinking_ about it, it makes me so-- I just-- I want-- oh, please--"

"Shh, shh, honey," Dana soothes. Her pants feel hot and far too restrictive - hearing Clarice beg and whimper for her has always turned her on in an instant. "Oh, sweetie. You sound so desperate." She tuts sympathetically. "Have you been playing with yourself?"

Clarice gives a quickly muffled moan. "I-- well-- what do you think?" She replies weakly. Dana laughs.

"I think you have. I think you've been fingering yourself every night since I told you I'd fuck you. Am I right?"

Clarice sounds breathless, and Dana wonders if she might have her hand between her legs right now. "You're-- always right," she gasps. There's a short silence, a breathless pause. "I wish you'd-- fuck me with your fingers."

The admission is so sweet, so shy. Bashful. Like the skunk from Bambi, what was his name, Flower, that was it. Clarice sounds like Flower. Twitterpated. 

She's not used to swearing.

Dana fights the urge to push her hand into her pants right here and now, in the open garage doorway.

"Oh, baby, I will. It's okay, just hold on a little longer and I'll be there." She pauses, listens to Clarice's breathless whimpers. "Are you touching yourself?"

"I-- yes."

"Good. Well, here's what I want you to do," Dana replies, her voice a low drawl. "Stop whatever you're doing right now. Keep your hand where it is, but stop."

Clarice whines in disappointment. Even though Dana can't see her, she trusts that she's stopped. She's obedient like that.

"Good girl. Now slowly - slowly, mind you - rub one finger up and down yourself. Don't touch your clit. Do it lightly." Dana licks her lips and listens closely, mapping Clarice's movements in her head as she hears her begin to softly whimper.

"Oh God..."

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I can't-- I'm embarrassed."

"It's just me," Dana soothes gently. "You can say anything."

Clarice takes another little shuddering breath. "I'm-- so wet, Dana," she whispers.

Dana bites back a groan and shuts her eyes for just a moment, just long enough to let her sudden flare of hot arousal settle in her lower belly. "Aw, baby. Did I do that? Make you soak right through your panties?" Her voice is less of a purr, now. More of a growl.

Clarice moans, and doesn't stifle it this time. "Ah-- do you-- have to be so crude?"

"You love it," Dana chuckles. "So keep stroking yourself for me, baby, just keep going--"

"Please let me touch my clit," Clarice gasps. She sounds almost tearful, and Dana wishes she were holding her right now.

"Yeah. Yeah, you can touch your clit." She pauses, hears Clarice moan happily, and almost moans herself. "Keep going, honey, think about what I'm going to do to you when I see you."

Clarice moans breathlessly and then breathes, tries to regain a little control of her voice, speaks up timidly. "Would-- would you fuck me with a strap-on? I keep thinking about it--"

"God. Fuck. Yes," Dana replies without a moment of hesitation, and Clarice whimpers several octaves higher than usual. "Fuck. We've never done that before, have we?" Now that Clarice has mentioned it, she can't stop thinking about it either - having Clarice pinned beneath her as she thrusts a toy far thicker than her fingers up between her legs, making her moan with abandon - it sounds far too delicious to pass up.

Clarice's moans become desperate little repeated cries, and Dana can hear her shifting about now, louder than before. "Dana-- I-I'm--"

"You're so cute. Fuck, you're so cute," Dana snarls feverishly. "Come on, honey, cum for me, come on--"

Clarice cries out a few more times, lets out a high-pitched yelp, and trails off into breathless whimpers and panting. Dana grins, feeling quite breathless herself. "Feel better?"

Clarice stays silent for a few moments longer, trying to catch her breath. "Not-- not quite. A little. I don't know." She pauses, swallows hard. "That was really good."

"Mm. I'm glad." Dana is very aware of her own situation, and despite herself, she wants to wrap up this conversation so she can go and deal with it. "You don't sound too happy."

"No, I-- it's just-- oh, Dana, I want you _here_."

"I know, honey. I want to be there too. But we can organise something now, you've got my number, and I've got yours."

"But--" Clarice sounds like she might cry. This isn't new - she always gets a little sappy post-orgasm, but it breaks Dana's heart either way. "Joseph is going to be back from work in an hour or so."

"So call me next time he's out, I'll head over in the morning, and we'll have the whole day to play with." Dana only just stops herself from adding a sly 'eachother', but smiles to herself nonetheless. "You got it?"

Clarice makes a sad noise of agreement. Dana nods. "Good. I'll call you back soon, Clare. Promise." She grins. "I always make good on my promises, don't I?"

"Yes," Clarice breathes with a soft, reluctant laugh. "Yes, I suppose you do."


End file.
